Cartman's Twin
by Peppermintz
Summary: When Liane Cartman gets in trouble with the law, Eric faces an unwelcoming fate and learns the truth about his real mother.
1. Zombie Killings

**Disclaimer:** South Park is copyright Trey Parker/Matt Stone..which is copyright Comedy Central, which is copyright Viacom, which is copyright Golgamax Universe Entertainment, and so on until you get to Jesus.

**Author Note: **This is my first attempt at a fan fiction story. I've re-written it a little, so if you read the original, you may want to re-read it..or just skip to the last chapter, whichever you prefer :P

* * *

**CHAPTER 1 **

"Maaaaahmm!"

"MAAAhhhmm!"

Eric Cartman's face was red with frustration as Liane Cartman entered the room.

"What is it sweetiepumpkins?" she responded in a syrupy voice.

Eric sat on the floor, looking solemnly down at a box of chocolate bunnies. "It's just that..I didn't want peanut butter filled ones. You know I like the marshmallow filled kind!"

The fat, pathetic 9 year old sat there on the carpet and began to cry.

"I thought I had a mom who loved me!" he wailed.

Ms. Cartman kneeled down to pat her son on the back. "Oh nonsense sweetie, Mommy loves you more than anything. You know, I'm heading to the drug store right now! I'll make sure I bring home your chocolate bunnies on the way back."

A slight smile spread across the boy's face. "You..you really? You would do that for me? Wow. I have such a caring mahm. So thoughtful, such a wonderful mahmm." Ms. Cartman sighed. "Oh and Mahhm?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't get the peanut butter kind again, or I'll have to kick you in the nuts." He said in an angelic tone. With a perplexed look, she turned to grab a nylon winter jacket from the coat rack and headed out the door.

"Sweet." Cartman said to himself smugly as he heard the front door slam shut.

* * *

Gunfires sounded, followed by grunts and groans as limp bodies hit the concrete. 'Whahahah! Pwned you zombie assholes!' Cartman was by himself in the living room, playing a video game when the phone rang.

He paused the game and then heaved himself off the couch, huffing for air as though he were trying out for an olympic sport. The phone kept ringing.

"God damnit, whose calling meh?!"

"..Hello?" he picked up, but it was too late. The caller had already hung up.

He then plopped himself back down on the couch to un-pause the video game, and the killing spree ensued. He pwned zombies with an array of different weapons, including napalm bombs and fire rifles. He was almost about to reach the next level when he was once again interrupted, this time by the doorbell ringing. Not once, but repeatedly, over and over again, as though someone couldn't stop pushing the button. This sudden interruption pissed him off, to say the least. He grunted as he pulled himself off the couch once again.

Outside, his two best friends stood on the front step of the house. Well, except for Kyle. Kyle was just a dirty jew. "Open up Cartman, its fucking freezing out here!!" the green hatted boy yelled while banging on the door. "Yeah, get off your tubby ass and let us in!" the blue hat chimed in as he pressed the doorbell over and over again. There was nothing better to do that Saturday morning than piss Cartman off. They waited at the door to see the look on his face.

As predicted, a set of furrowed eyebrows glanced at them as the door cracked open. "How did you know it was me, assholes?"

"Because your mom's car is gone. Looks like she went to go visit one of her _gentleman callers_ again." Kyle said in a taunting tone.

"Ay shut up faggot! She just went to the store to get me chocolate bunnies!!" he spat at Kyle angrily.

"Like you really need chocolate Bunnies!" Kyle spat back sarcastically.

"Gross man, what were you doing, making out with your bag of cheese poofs?" Stan said. Cartman, with orange dust around his mouth just nodded and smiled. "You're just jealous because your crappy mom never buys any good snacks. I'd be pissed too if I had to eat rabbit food shit all the time."

Stan didn't bother arguing, he knew that arguing with Cartman was pointless. He actually felt bad for his friend because he was such a fat loser. He was going to be really unhealthy when he grows up.

They came in and there was more of a mess inside. A bag of cheesy poofs was opened and spilled out all over the couch like a bear had gone through it.

Kyle tried to wipe the orange crumbs off the couch before sitting down cautiously, making care to avoid the germs. The other two followed and Cartman quickly grabbed his x-box controller to keep it from being snatched.

"We tried to call a little while ago, but nobody answered. What were you doing?" Stan asked.

"Oh nothing..just playing _ZOMBIE RESURRECTION DOOM 3_" Cartman replied. His two friends dropped their mouths open in surprise. "H-how did you get a-hold of that?" Stan asked incrediously. Cartman pressed a button and the black screen flickered back to life. They watched in fascination. "I just asked my mahm to get it for me. I told her I was doing so well in school, but needed a little _encouragement_ to keep my grades up. Dumb bitch is so gullible."

Kyle looked pissed. "What a fatass. You're barely passing Mr. Garrison's class!" Cartman saw the jealousy rising in Kyle's face and couldn't help but smile. "Like I said Kyle, my mom's not a fat fuckin' bitch like yours!"

"Oh please! You just called your mom a dumb bitch." Kyle snapped back. Cartman looked surprised, having no recollection of such event. "What? I would _never _call my mahm names! Besides, that stupid whore wouldn't care if I did anyway." Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, this weekend is going to be sweet and you assholes aren't going to ruin it for me! I'm going to get to level 60 before tonight." Cartman grinned as he took out more zombies with his super duper napalm shooting uzi. "Hooray! I got that sucker! Hmm..my mom should be back any minute now with my chocolate marshmallow bunnies."

"Dude, your mom is so whipped. I'm surprised she hasn't run away from you yet." Kyle said, still annoyed at Cartman's new game.

"Kyle, if all you're going to do is sit here with a bunch of sand in your vagina, you might as well leave. I don't need a pesky jew bothering me while I kill zombies."

"Wait, aren't you gonna let us play??" Stan said.

"No way! This is my game bitches. Nah nah nah nah, heh heh heh!"

"Fine! Have fun by yourself, asshole." Kyle lifted himself off the couch and headed for the door. "Hey Stan, wanna go throw firecrackers at old people?"

"Yeah! Who needs a stupid video game anyway!" Stan grimaced. Cartman was so entranced in his game that he didn't even notice when they left.

* * *

_Meanwhile, at a small building complex in the center of town, in a psychiatrist's office. _

"I just..I just can't take it anymore!!"

Liane Cartman sat in a worn out armchair with her hands on her head. Her face was red and swollen from tears. "My life is such a wreck." She sobbed quietly into her sleeve, the psychiatrist sat there staring quietly.

The psychiatrist tapped her pencil against the clipboard, waiting for the disheveled woman to continue.

"Every day I try to make something so my son and I can live comfortably, but I just can't do it anymore. Lately we've been running out of money, and I don't know if any job I could get would be able to support us both." By now, the eyeliner around her eyes was smudged, black drips falling down her face. "I don't have a college degree, hell, I don't even have a high school diploma. I don't know what to do! I can't keep living like this." Ms. Cartman held her hand on her head in distress.

"I'm afraid I'll have to file for bankruptcy next." she continued. "We're in debt up to here as it is. But if I do that, they're going to start questioning my sources of income. It's bad enough that the collectors keep calling our home..I don't want them coming to my house next!" she sobbed. The psychiatrist offered her a tissue, then scribbled something down on her clip board. The room fell silent for a few seconds, aside from a few stifled sniffles.

"Ms. Cartman" the psychiatrist began, "Do you have any emergency plans in case something does happen? Is there anyone you know who would be willing to take care of your son while this is all sorted out?"

Ms. Cartman stared at the wall in thought. "Well..no..his grandparents are dead, and the rest of his family members live very far away. I suppose I could ask..no, no..I couldn't. We haven't spoken in years. I don't want to just barge in on their lives like that."

* * *

Liane had to rub the blur out of her eyes to focus on the road while driving home. She suddenly remembered that she had something to pick up and stopped at the local drugstore. Checking herself in the mirror, she reapplied her makeup and tried to fix any flaws that may have indicated she had just been crying.

After entering the store, she grabbed three packs of chocolate marshmallow bunnies and a giant bottle of aspirin. "That'll be $12" the cashier said. Ms. Cartman handed the employee her debit card, but the cashier had to swipe it 5 times before announcing that it had been declined. "Oh great..I guess I'll pay in cash then." After scrambling in her purse for money, she found a $20 bill, the only bit of cash still left in there.

When Liane got home, her son was passed out on the couch with a bag of potato chips. She left his chocolate bunnies on the table and quietly went upstairs.

She splashed water over her face in the bathroom and then headed to bed. Before falling asleep, she popped open the bottle of aspirin and downed a few of them with a swig from a wine bottle.

* * *

_Next Morning._

That morning Liane woke up later than usual. She rubbed her temple, feeling the pressure in her head. It was 11AM. Realizing that she hadn't yet made breakfast for a certain someone, she slunk out of bed and shuffled into the hallway to glance down the staircase. Her son was, as usual, sitting on the couch lazily, basking in the light of the TV screen. There were plastic food wrappers spread all over the table. She supposed he had already held himself over for the morning with junk food, but he'd probably still demand breakfast just for the hell of it. It wasn't very Eric-like for him to ever give his mommy a break.

Liane turned back around, causing a creak in the floor as she made her way back towards the bedroom. Suddenly a voice interrupted her. "Mahhm? Is that you?"

The throbbing in her head increased. She shook it off to respond in her usual tone. "Yes sweetie pumpkins?"

"Oh mahm, I'm _sooo_ starving. Need...food..don't think... I can last much longer like this." he said in a coarse, raspy voice. She watched wearily as he put on a "famished child from a third world country" act. He winced in starvation, holding onto his belly like it were all he had left.

"Do you want mommy to make you something to eat?" she asked.

"Oh, mahmm.. I suppose I'll be fine...my body will just have to begin consuming it's own flesh to carry on..that is if I don't pass out before then..urghh..feeling faint.."

Eric held his hands to his head to look as though he were dying. Liane wondered to herself how she raised such a demented child. "What is it you want for breakfast, pumpkins?"

"Well..I suppose donut pancake surprise with extra syrup and lots of powdered sugar would be nice."

"Alright hun-"

"And maybe some french toast."

"Ok sweetie, it-"

"And some cheesypoofs, and scrambled eggs with bacon and _lots_ of butter."

Liane looked down at the floor and sighed. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen. "And don't overcook the toast this time bitch!" Eric called as he lazed about on the couch. Mom didn't bother arguing, she just started cooking as fast as she could. An hour later, there was a breakfast fit for a team of quarterbacks.

"Snuffykins! Your breakfast is ready!" she called out. "ALRIGHT MAHMM!" he yelled back in disconcern. "I CAN'T GET UP NOW! BRING MY BREAKFAST IN HERE!" he yelled. Liane frowned, looking down at the food she had ever so neatly set up at the table. She put it all on trays and brought it into the next room.

He reached for the first plate and dove into it like a hog. Liane could have sworn she heard oinking as he stuffed his face. The powdered pancakes disappeared rather quickly as she walked away, and it was then that the reality of their financial situation hit her. She couldn't afford to keep feeding her son like this. What was going to happen now that they were running out of money? And most importantly, how would she explain to Eric that he couldn't just have whatever he wanted anymore? It was going to be difficult, as Cartman was a spoiled child who never accepted "no" for an answer. Just as she was contemplating the wrath that would ensue, the doorbell rang.

"Doorbell, mahm!" a mouthfull of food barked at her.

Liane opened the door to greet three familiar boys; all of whom were dressed in their snow coats and gloves. One with a blue hat, one with a green hat, and one with an orange hood pulled over his face. They were all smiling innocently. There was a genuine kindness she saw in them, something that she wished she could see in her own son. Or maybe that was just the act they were putting on.

The blue hat was the first to speak up. "Hi Mrs. Cartman, can Eric come out?"

"Hold on a moment, he's just finishing his breakfast." she responded. With that, she turned and left to get him. "Damn, at 12:40 in the afternoon?" Kyle said. "Mmphh mhph mph mmph." (Yeah, he's probably on his 25th course by now) Kenny replied. They all laughed. "Mmphh mph mhph m phh mphh!" (I wish I was lucky enough to have a breakfast at all!).

"Yeah Kenny, your family only has breakfast at dinnertime and you all fight over a waffle!" Stan said.

The boys waited on the front step impatiently, watching their frozen puffs of breath fly away. Meanwhile, Eric sat on the couch in his pajamas, his greasy fingers pressing all over the video game controller. "Eric, sweetie! Your little friends are here to see you. They want you to come outside and play."

"Damnit, not now, mom! Can't you see I'm doing something very important? I only have like 10 hours left of weekend to play this game!" he snapped.

"Oh alrighty then, I'll just go and ask if they want to play your new game with you." With that, she went to the door to welcome them in. "No! Those assholes can't play my game!! God dammnit mom!!"

He rolled his eyes as his grinning "friends" scurried in and took over the couch he just had all to himself a few minutes ago. _'I bet they planned this'_, Cartman thought angrily. Kenny grabbed a few donuts off his plate and stuffed them into his mouth. "God damnit Kenny! Those were mine!"

Kenny laughed and then grabbed a piece of french toast off another plate before Eric could stop him. "KENNY!!"

"It's not like you need all that food, fatass!" Kyle said. "Shut up jew!" Cartman yelled.

Kenny felt the incentive to finish off Cartman's pancakes as well. If he weren't so poor, he'd be a fatass too. Eric gritted his teeth when he saw the rest of his food dissappearing. "Dammit you gahz! Go away and leave me alone!"

"No way! Your mom said we could play too." Stan argued. "Mmph mph mmphh mph" (Well, I just came for the food.) Kenny's talking was even more muffled as he tried to swallow the pancakes he'd stuffed in his mouth.

"I haven't even gotten to level 100 yet! What makes you think I'm going to let you _newbs_ play my game?" Cartman hissed snobbily. "We're only _newbs_ at it because we haven't gotten to play it yet, artard!" Stan yelled.

"Yeah just give us a turn, you've been on this thing all weekend. Don't you ever take a break?!" Kyle pleaded.

"If I take a break, one of you will just steal the game when I'm not looking and run off with it. I know your sneaky asshole tactics."

"Dammit Cartman, you suck." Stan complained.

"Whatever you gahz, this is MY game, that means I get to play it. You are welcome to watch me have fun, though. I'm just now getting into the_ spooky _graveyard."

The two boys sighed and agreed to watch Cartman play instead. Kenny didn't really care about the game, he was just too stuffed to get up and leave.

_2 hours later._

Kenny was out cold sleeping, and Stan and Kyle were getting bored. Somehow killing zombies wasn't as fun when watching someone else do it. Liane had left just over an hour ago to do "errands". Nobody knew what kind of "errands" they were, but they all had their suspicions.

Eventually, Cartman was left by himself again. His friends left and his mom had yet to come home, the sun slowly setting into the late afternoon.

Cartman didn't care about anything going on beyond the TV screen. He had become one of the mindless zombies from his game, numbly pressing buttons with a puddle of drool coming from his mouth. That's probably why he was unaware when a police car had pulled up outside the house, along with another white vehicle and a group of adults in uniform. By the time he noticed the red and blue flickering lights shining through the blinds, they were already approaching the front door. Eric quickly shut off his game and ran upstairs to look out the window. Another police car was just pulling up in the street. "Shit." he mumbled.


	2. FBI Fugitives

**CHAPTER 2**

Liane usually didn't mind leaving Eric home alone, even if he was there with his friends. If Cartman was going to do something bad, he wasn't like other children who would wait until their parents were gone to do it. He did whatever he wanted, no matter what.

That day, she left to ask a favor of a certain person. She drove to the shady side of town, not too far from where Kenny lived. Entering the ghetto neighborhood, she pulled down a familiar street and parked her car a few houses away from her destination. Hidden faces peered out the windows of their houses as she slammed the car door shut. It was never safe to come here at night, she knew. That's why she had to risk doing her business in daylight. She followed the sidewalk to an old red townhouse and knocked on the door. A few crumbles of brick fell from above her as she knocked. She knocked a few times, but nobody answered.

She was about to turn back around when she heard a creak from inside. A tall man with messy hair and a yellow trucker hat appeared at the door. "Yeahh? What is it?" the man had a redneck accent, his voice sounding disoriented. "Well get in here, don't just stand on my doorstep all suspicious like that."

Liane followed him inside. The house smelled like a nauseating mixture of weed, mildew and piss all combined. She could tell he was high as he stumbled and grabbed the wall for support. "What're yew here for?" he asked, an obvious hint of annoyance in his voice.

Liane took a moment to respond, unsure what she was going to say. "Well, Ted.. You know how I've been helping you out lately?" she waited for a response, but the man just stared at her through glazed eyes. "I came here because..well, I'm in deep debt right now and could use some help. Those collectors are really onto me. Why, the other day, I saw a white car parked near our house..it had tinted windows and an antennae, it really looked suspicious!" She stopped speaking as the expression on the man's face went from blazed to brimming. Maybeit wasn't such a good idea to come here afterall.

The drug dealer pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to Liane. "You said.. you saw a sneaky lookin' car? Why the hell would you come h-here then?? F-fuck..they're going to find out..out about me." he said with a slurred voice. He tripped over the couch, mumbling curse words as he tried to make his way over to the window. "Oh my, well I suspected they were there because of my debt, I didn't think it would be because of the drugs.." she pondered curiously. It turned out that even a pothead had more common sense than Liane. It suddenly made sense to her now, though. Perhaps the undercover car _was _aware that she was helping him traffic drugs. Suddenly, she felt nervous. Not so much from the trouble with the law she could face, but because of the drug dealer standing before her. He seemed to be getting angrier by the second.

He peered out through the blinds and scanned the streets outside, checking for any vehicles or people that might seem astray. There was a white (or yellow? or red? he couldn't tell) car parked on the adjacent side of the street. The windows weren't tinted, and it certainly wasn't a police car, but being high it didn't really make a difference to him. He was angry. He turned his focus back to Liane, who had kept herself good few feet away in distance. Within seconds, he lunged toward her and grabbed her arms, forcefully pushing her into the wall. Liane gasped as she stared him in the eye uneasily, his face way too close for comfort. "First things first.." he breathed onto her face, his horrid breath laced with alcohol causing her to cringe. "Don't you never come directly to me about _nothin_..If I get busted for this...well I'll kill you!"

He poked his finger into her chest as she tried to remove her arms from his grasp. "Just let me go..." she pleaded.

"Fucking whore.." he said through gritted teeth. Liane jabbed him in the nuts with her knee as hard as she could. He winced from the sudden pressure and quickly released her to grab ahold of his crotch, stumbling onto the dirty couch behind him.

Liane made a dash for the front door the moment he let go of her. Just as she grabbed the knob, he lunged at her again, pulling on her shoulder to force her around as she tripped to the floor. "You're not leaving..you fuckin' piece of shit!" he warned through a heavily garbled voice. He threw himself on top of her, punching her blindly in the neck and across the jaw. She braced her arms over her head in self defense, but that didn't help much as her arms only got knocked into her face. Just as he was ready to land another punch, she kicked him in the stomach, causing him to fall onto his leg backwards. He clutched himself again and rolled into a curled position. Liane stumbled over the man's body to get up, attempting to make it to the doorknob again. But just as she swung her leg over the body, he wrapped an arm around it, sending her down yet again. This time with a loud thud as her head hit the hard floor. After that, everything went black.

_15 minutes later_

Liane was startled upon waking to find herself lying on the floor of a small room she had never seen before. It was full of newspapers and trash. Her head was throbbing and she was in a painful haze. She pulled herself up and touched her bloody lip. The first thing on her mind was where the hell she was, having no instant memory of what had just happened. She tried opening the door, but it wouldn't open. She tried kicking it, even ramming herself into it but to no prevail. The drug dealer had the door locked with a latch from the outside in.

It took a minute for her memory of the preceding events to finally sink in. Apparently she must have blacked out after she fell to the floor. Now, she was stuck locked in a room for god knows why.

She was considering trying to escape through the only window in the room just when voices were heard not too far from outside. She stood next to the door to listen, being careful not to make much noise. One was a little muffled and difficult to understand. Eventually the words became louder. "Called for...noise..blah blah blah?"

The voice was getting closer and she could now hear it clearly. "Just gonna take a look around back here." A walkie talkie beep was heard along with a door being slammed. There were several footsteps heard in the house, one of which sounded like heavy thumps. Then something got knocked over. "Woah!" a man yelled. "Dispatch. Suspect just ran down the street. Calling for back-up." She then realized what was going on; police were there. Liane still felt weak, but decided to try and scramble out the window before anyone found her. She knew she was as much a criminal as the man who beat her up, and having another run-in with the police wasn't going to be nice. However, when she peered out the window, she noticed even more policemen in the backyard searching aimlessly for something; probably drug evidence.

"This is awful.." she thought to herself. There was nowhere to hide; she was trapped. Her nerves were at an end when an officer finally unlatched the door and peered in. They found her curled up against the wall with red bruises on her face and neck, her head buried into her arms. "Maam, are you alright?" the officer asked, looking around the room suspiciously.

She couldn't find the energy to speak, but managed to nod her head wearily. Being both mentally and physically drained, this encounter with the authorities was the last thing she wanted. They offered her medical help, but Liane politely declined, ensuring that she would be fine if she could just get home to her son. Apparently, that wasn't an option, and she was instead taken away for further questioning. To make matters worse, her car was left sitting in the middle of the street after sundown in one of the worst neighborhoods in South Park. It would probably be nothing but a stripped frame by the time she got back to it.

Everything was explained at the police station. While it turned out the police weren't there for a drug bust after all, it eventually turned into something of the sort. They'd originally come to settle a disturbance/noise complaint, but when the owner fled not long after being confronted about it, suspicion followed, and a brief search of the property ensued. After finding drug paraphernalia and an injured woman locked inside the room of his home, things weren't looking so good for the redneck. The scenario itself was reminiscent of a "Cops" episode; dumb criminal flees down street only to be tackled minutes later, handcuffed and then taken away.

Two hours after the incident occurred, Liane found herself sitting on a cold wooden bench at the sheriff's department. She was given nothing but a dirty icepack for her bruises. Despite looking like she'd been through hell and back, the questioning went on for nearly three hours. Throughout the entire period of questioning she created lies off the top of her head in an attempt to form an allaby. She couldn't admit that she'd been stashing drugs for the man who beat her up, so she instead claimed being attacked by a boyfriend. She couldn't admit that her 9 year old son was home alone without a guardian either, and so she told them that she would need to return home immediately to relieve the babysitter of her duties. Unfortunately, when her recollection of the day's events didn't meet up to that of the redneck's, Liane ended up in a deeper grave than she'd bargained for.

* * *

_Back at home_

There were loud knocks on the front door as Eric peered out through the blinds of the window, observing two police cars parked in front of his house. The knocking got more repetitive as the officers at the door refused to leave the front doorstep. They had with them a large black dog. The downstairs lights of the house were turned on, a sign that someone was inside. Cartman wasn't sure whether answering the door would be a good idea. "This is all Kenny's fault!" he thought to himself. "He probably downloaded illegal stuff on my computer again!"

Believing the FBI was now on his trail, Eric didn't waste time making an escape. He ran down the stairs and made a dash out through the back of the house, not long before the police finally took measures to break down the front door. It was very dark out now; he couldn't see well in the backyard. He piled two lawn chairs on top of each other by the wooden fence, taking a leap of fate into the neighbor's yard. Cartman tumbled onto the ground in the wet snow, panting as though it were the most physically enduring thing he'd done all week. Well, actually it was. He took a minute to catch his breath again, and then ran from the neighbor's yard down the street. At this point he was unsure where to go; he just had to get as far away from the FBI as possible.

Eric ran until he reached a red house. He grabbed a ball of snow and threw it at one of the windows. When nothing happened, he threw more. Eventually the blinds on the window turned. Butters opened the window, peering out sleepily and rubbing his eyes. "Psst, Butters!" Eric whispered as loudly as possible. Butters looked down to see a fat, dark shadow standing there in the snow. He sighed angrily, knowing this was going to be some crazy scheme again. Whenever Cartman came to his house, it usually meant trouble. "Butters, you have to let me in. The police are after me!"

Butters wasn't particularly sympathetic for Eric this time. "Uh huh, that's what you said two weeks ago." the other replied. Eric raised an eyebrow, not recalling anything of the sort. "But I'm seriously this time! I need to hide, quick!" Cartman pleaded. "Well you can't hide here! I'll get grounded!" Butters said, standing his ground for once. "Butters, come on! I might spend the rest of my life in jail if you don't help me!" Cartman yelled raspily.

Butters didn't respond; it was too late for this kind of pressure. He rubbed his knuckles nervously.

"Fine. If you're going to just betray me like that, well then you're no better than a jew!" Eric pretended to walk away slowly, waiting for the guilt trip to set in. Butters did indeed feel a little guilty now; he couldn't just let Cartman rot away in jail, even if he hated him. That would be terrible. However, he feared his parents more than he did his own guilt. "It's 11 o'clock, I'll get grounded if I let anyone in! I'm supposed to be asleepin right now." he responded.

"DUH, that's why you're going to sneak me in. Now get me a rope!" Eric barked, in as low of a tone possible. Butters sighed and left the window. A minute later, he returned with a rope. "Uh, I don't know if I can lift you up here, Eric." Butters uncoiled the rope and threw it down, comparing his own hand strength to the massive weight of his friend. "You don't have to, retard. Just tie it something solid so I can climb up. Hurry, they're coming!" Eric shouted.

Butters managed to tie the rope around his dresser, then gave a thumbs up to Cartman. It took the fat boy two minutes to finally climb all the way up the wall. Butters had to help pull him through the window, nearly bursting a blood vesell in the process. Just after the fat boy made it through the window, a police car with flashing lights turned slowly down the street. "_See_, do you believe me now??" Eric whispered. "Ah, well, I guess you really weren't fibbin'. What in the heck did you do this time?" Butters asked.

"I didn't do anything it's all Kenny's fault! He used my computer for music piracy and god knows what else, and now the FBI is after me!" Butters looked out the window to see the police car still driving slowly down the street. "They're not going to find us are they? I don't wanna get in trouble for this. Boy, my parents would ground me for weeks if they found out I was keepin' a fugitive in my room." he fiddled with his fingers nervously.

Eric rolled his eyes. "I'm not a fugitive!! And they wouldn't think of looking for me here, that's why I came. I'll just crash here for the night, and tomorrow after school you can help me get to Mexico. They don't have music piracy laws there, since Mexicans are too poor to own computers anyway." Butters eyes widened at that. "You're going all the way t-to Mexico? How're you gunna get there?" he whispered. "I've got a gang, Butters. The school janitors. Enrique, Carlos, and Sanchez; they're my homies. I can get them to drive us there for just 5 bucks." Here was the crazy scheme part again; Butters didn't seem too excited about the idea. "Wait. Why do _I _need to come?" he asked. Cartman paused for a moment to think. "Because I need an apprentice in case they try to rape me or something! Don't tell me your going to pussy out on me this time!" The idea reminded Butters of the time he was convinced to go to Somalia to become a pirate. That flop of an adventure led to them nearly being killed, and he wasn't going to risk his life a second time. "I just think thats a little too far!! Mexico isn't a very safe place to travel, y'know, with the ghettos and all." But Cartman wasn't going to let up. "Dude who cares, if we find Aztec gold there we'll be millionaires!" Before Butters could respond, the fat boy had already settled into his bed and was now getting comfortable on his very own pillow. Butters was left standing in the middle of the room, feeling like he had been hijacked of his night's sleep.

"Aw hamburgers" he complained. He growled to himself and looked around in the closet for a spare blanket. He slept on the floor the rest of that night.

* * *

_An hour later, at the county jail_

It was now midnight, and Liane sat on a hard vinyl padded bed, contemplating that day's horrible chain of events. She was stuck in a tiny jail cell by herself. Her belongings were taken away from her and she wore an oversized white and orange prisoner's uniform. A shadow cast onto the tiny window of the bolt lock door. The door opened, and a jail guard entered. He pulled up a chair and sat down inside the cell. "Maam, we sent officers to your home to take care of your son, but he was nowhere to be found. There was no babysitter either." the guard set a black bag down next to the chair while waiting for the woman's response.

"Oh my..well, perhaps he was sent to a friend's house. Yes, I'm sure the babysitter did that. Maybe if they could just check-" she was interrupted mid-sentence. "All of our officers are off duty now, so unfortunately we can't search any further. We'll just have to assume that he'll be safe til' tomorrow morning."

"But he's only 9 years old! How do I know he's safe? Isn't there any way I can go home tonight, just so I can find my son?" The guard didn't seem to have much sympathy for her situation. "I'm sorry maam, but there isn't much I can do. You're permitted to stay here by law. You are to remain at this facility until you are assigned a court date. All of that will be discussed tomorrow with your public defender." Liane felt her heart sink. She had been to jail before, but never for drug related crimes. Her past records weren't going to help her either. The guard picked up the black plastic bag he had set on the floor and pulled out from it a smaller, clear bag. "Do you realize that these were found within your home?" he held the bag up for her to see, it was filled with cocaine. "Yes sir, I realize." she said looking down at the floor. "Possession of cocaine is a very serious matter. You could be facing some very big consequences, especially if you have been holding these for drug trade related crimes." he said coldly, placing the crack powder back into the evidence bag. "Well maam, I just came to inform you of your serious consequences, so my duty is over. I want you to think hard about your actions, _and _how they could effect your child." the man gave her a demeaning look, getting up from the chair and pushing it back into the corner of the room. The door bolted shut as it closed behind him, and Liane began to sob quietly.


	3. The Worst Sentence

**CHAPTER 3**

That morning, Cartman showed up at the bus stop early, deep bags under his eyes and messy hair poking out under his hat. The rest of the gang arrived not long afterwards, eyeing him strangely. Kyle was the first to speak. "Dude, why were there cop cars outside your house last night?" he asked.

"You might want to ask _Kenny_ that question." Cartman said, shooting Kenny a malicious look. Kenny eyed him back suspciously. "Don't act like you don't know Kenneh!" he yelled. "Mmph??" the orange hood responded. "_You_ were the one who downloaded music illegally on my computer, and now the FBI is after _me_!" Cartman said, shooting an evil glare at him. Although Kenny's face was mostly hidden behind his hood, he seemed to be genuinely confused. "Mmpph mph mmph mmhph!" (I have no fucking idea what you're talking about!)

Cartman rolled his eyes. "You were the _only_ one on my computer yesterday, Kenneh. Why were the FBI at my door if you didn't do anything illegal??" he stated matter-of-factly. "Mmph m mmph mph." (All I did was check my e-mail.) "Bullshit!!" Cartman yelled.

Stan sighed. "Well, maybe it _wasn't _the FBI at your house last night?" he offered, just throwing it out there as a possibility. "Yeah, how do you know they weren't trying to arrest your mom for whoring?" Kyle added smugly. "Ay!! Don't call my mom a whore." Cartman cracked his fists at Kyle, but then it suddenly dawned on him that his mom had never returned home that night. It did seem a little weird; she wasn't home this morning either after sneaking out of Butters' house. "Hmm, that is odd though.. My mom never really came home last night, and she wasn't there this morning either. Strange coincidence, I guess." he said inquisitively. Stan pinched his nose at Cartman's stupidity, and Kenny bopped him on the head. "Mmph mphh mhph mmph!" (You're a dumbass, Cartman!). "Ay Kenneh, I am not!" Cartman yelled defensively. "Sometimes my mom leaves for awhile and doesn't come back, how was I supposed to know if she got in trouble this time??" he argued.

Just then, the school bus pulled up. "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!!" Ms. Crabtree barked.

Cartman sat next to Butters, who had with him a pillowcase stuffed with all the necessities of life; like toothpaste, comicbooks, and glitter smiley face stickers. "S-so are you ready for Mexico?" he asked nervously.

"No Butters. It turns out the FBI may not be after me _after _all, so I guess I don't have to flee to Mexico anymore. Which is good, because now we don't have to worry about getting swine flu or anything."

"Aw, and I wasted all that time picking out my most important belongings!" Butters complained. "It took me an hour to decide which stuffed animal to bring..because I didn't want to leave Mr. Biggles behind, Mr Biggles is Mr. Fluffy's best friend, so I couldn't take one but not the other, and then there are 12 more, so I didn't know who to pick, and I had to hold a casting to choose between them all, and then.." his senseless babbling went on and on. Cartman wasn't listening; he was wondering where his mom went.

* * *

_Back at jail_

The white door was unbolted at 6 AM in the morning, this time by a female guard who threw a pile of uniform clothes at Liane, snapping at her to wake up. "You can get changed now. Then you must come outside for a meeting with your defender." the woman said coldly. She slammed the door shut and left. Liane rubbed her eyes. Her face was greasy and smudged in makeup, her hair was a mess, and she had barely gotten any sleep at all that night. She still felt achey all over and noticed in the mirror that her bruises were even more noticeable now. She splashed water over her face in the small sink and then changed into the new uniform.

Meeting with a counselor and public defender wasn't a very enjoyable experience. The last thing she wanted to do that morning was discuss legal and court matters. When she arrived in the small room she was appointed to, she could barely focus on the conversation. "You can either get a lawyer, or I will be your representation in court. However, without a good attorney, it's unlikely that your sentence will be dropped or lessened." the man continued, folding his hands at the desk. Upon hearing this, Liane frowned. "But I can't afford an attorney. I can't even afford bail! It's just not fair..I know I don't belong here!" she sighed, feeling desperate to go home. "I just got involved with the wrong people, but now I need to be home for my child!" she sobbed. The man sighed and decided to call an end to the session. She was obviously too upset to discuss matters seriously. Liane was sent back to her cell, this time feeling somewhat relieved that she didn't have to speak to any more people at the moment. She stared up at the ceiling and drifted off asleep from the exhaustion.

* * *

_Later that day at school_

Throughout class, Eric kept thinking about why the police came to his house, and why his mom never returned home from her 'errands' on Sunday. He knew that she had gotten into trouble with the police before, but the last time that happened, she returned home on the very same day. Maybe she would be back when he came home from school today? But then again, what if something really bad happened? The worst case scenario would be that she was dead. As much as he'd miss his mother, Eric found himself more worried about what it would be like without her there to cater to his every need anymore. It continued to haunt his thoughts all day.

By the time lunch rolled around, Eric didn't feel very hungry; normally he would buy a double lunch, but today he didn't feel like eating lunch. His friends knew it was rare to see a day that Cartman turned down food. While everyone else had gone to the lunch lines he just sat by himself at the table. Stan was the first to come back; he noticed Cartman sitting there gazing into the table at nothing. "Hey fatass, wheres your lunch?" he asked. Cartman scowled at him and folded his head in his arms. "Dude, what's wrong?" Stan said. Before Eric could respond, he was interrupted by a female teacher tapping him on the arm. "Young man, the counselor would like to see you." she informed. "Aw, dammit, what did I do this time??" he growled. "You didn't do anything wrong. He just wants to speak with you. Now come on, he said he wanted to see you during lunch." she continued, pulling the little boy off the bench by his arm. Stan shrugged as Cartman was dragged out of the lunch room and taken to Mr. Mackey's office.

The big headed, tightly tied neck tie counselor sat at the desk with his hands folded as Eric came in. "Thank you Mrs. Pantybunch." he said, dismissing the teacher. She closed the door and left the room. "H-hullo Eric, could you please take a seat?" he asked as the teacher left the office. Eric sat down in the plastic chair, looking annoyed as he rubbed the spot on his arm from the teacher's death grip. He certainly did not enjoy being dragged halfway through the school like that. "Mmkay, Eric." Mr Mackey grabbed a sheet of paper and looked down at it. "Well, I called you here to discuss a very serious matter, mmkay. It's about your mother." he said.

Cartman suddenly felt nervous. "Oh no. She's not.. dead, is she?" he said, looking down at the floor in anxiety. "No! Mmkay, you're mother is alright. However, she is in jail right now, understand?" Eric looked up, waiting for Mr. Mackey to continue. "Y'see, Eric, when adults do uhh, bad things, they sometimes get sent to a big house, sorta like detention for grownups, mmkay? That place is called _jail_." he explained. Eric sighed at Mr Mackey's stupidity, like he didn't know what_ jail _meant. Liane went there all the time; this was nothing new. "What did she get arrested for this time? Prostitution? Public indecency? Having some black guy snort coke off her ass for 5 dollars?" Mr. Mackey raised an eyebrow at that. "Uh well, I'm afraid I don't know exactly why your mother was arrested, but unfortunately until she has her court hearing, she may not be coming back home for awhile." he said dully. "In the mean time, some arrangements have been made for you to spend your time after school at a secondary home. Sorta like a foster home, mmkay, where you will live with other children about your age." Eric's eyes widened. A _foster _home? '_No way._' he thought. He would rather lick a monkey's butt than have to live a crappy foster home. All of the poor children, the strict foster parents, no video games, no chocoately chicken pot pies.. And if it was anything like in the movie _Annie_, this was surely a sentence to hell. Especially because _Annie_ was a creepy ginger kid, and Eric hated gingers. They freaked him out.

"B-but..Mr Mackey..I simply _can't_ go into foster care, I have special needs!" he pleaded. "Mmhmm, like what?" Mr Mackey looked into innocent, pleading eyes. "Like, like my diabetes. Oh and I have AIDS. You wouldn't let a small boy with such terrible illnesses live in a harsh environment like that, would you?" Mr. Mackey wasn't particularly convinced. "Uh, come on now Eric, you don't have diabetes, and we all know Magic Johnson cured your AIDS not too long ago. Besides, I don't have much of a say in this matter, mmkay? A social worker has decided that you are to be temporarily sent to a foster home, and that's final." Eric looked sad for a moment, but that quickly turned to rage. He ripped his hat off and threw it at the floor. "God dammit!! I'm not going to a crappy god damn foster home!! I swear it!" he yelled. "Eric, swearing is bad, mmkay?" Mr Mackey interjected. "GRAH!!" the boy yelled, stomping out of the room.

* * *

"And that children, is why you should never make friends with a hat. Hats are lying backstabbers who will betray you, and leave you for some other whore -" Mr Garrison babbled on, only to have his lesson interrupted by Cartman entering the class late. After speaking with Mr. Mackey, Cartman was given the choice of either going to the next lunch period with the third graders or going back to class. He didn't like third grader cooties, so he was forced to choose the latter. "Welcome back Eric, please have a seat." Mr. Garrison said dully, pointing at the empty desk. Cartman walked in and sat down at the desk angrily. He played around with the pencil on his desk for awhile as the teacher continued spewing useless information. Kenny tapped him on the arm while Garrison had his back turned to the chalkboard. "Mmph mmph?" he asked. "I'll tell you later Kenny, at recess." Cartman responded. Kenny nodded, then and went back to thinking about Stan's mom's boobies.

When recess was finally announced, all of the children stormed out of the building. Eric was the last one to leave the class, noting Kenny in the hallway waiting for him. "Hey Kenneh." he mumbled. "Mmph. Mmph mmph mph mph?" (Hey, so what happened?) the orange coat asked. "Well..my mahm's in jail." he responded, looking down at the ground. "Moh." Kenny replied, patting his friend on the back. Just as they were entering the playground, a dodgeball flew through the air at torpedo speed; straight towards Kenny. He was thrown into a wall violently, his death instantaneous. A pool of blood dripped into the snow as he slid down the wall. Stan and Kyle looked up from their usual antics to see Kenny laying dead, the rats already scurrying up to his body to consume it's fleshy organs. "Oh my god, they killed Kenny!" Stan screamed. "Who killed Kenny?" Kyle shouted. "Uhh..I dunno." he responded. "It was Clyde!" a random girl shouted out. "Yeah Clyde did it!" another person chimed in. Soon, every mitten on the playground was pointing at Clyde. "Clyde, you bastard!" Kyle yelled. Clyde broke out into tears and ran off into the building.

"Well, that was weird." Stan said. Then again, things were always weird in South Park. They went back to tossing a football around while Eric laughed maniacally at Kenny's death. He'd be resurrected tomorrow, but until then, Kenny would be spending the rest of the day in hell. Cartman took a seat on the sit-n-spin and watched the others tossing the pleather football back and forth. He wondered to himself what would happen when school was over. Would the teachers try to stop him from going home? Usually he was ecstatic about getting out of school, but today he felt apprehensive about it. _'I'm not going to a stupid foster home..I haven't even gotten a chance to get to level 100 yet!' _he mumbled to himself. '_Stupid mom..always has to go and do something stupid to ruin my day. That's just my kind of luck.'_


	4. Auschwitz

**CHAPTER 4**

At the end of the day, Cartman was carried into a car kicking and screaming. "No!! I don't wanna go to foster care! I want my mahmmm! Mahmmm!!" he cried. "No! Not my precious x-box!!" he yelled as they carried his toys away in a box. "Don't worry, young man. You'll get these back eventually." a blonde haired social worker said as she slammed the car door shut. "You can't do this to me!!" he screamed, banging on the door with his fists. He peered out through the back window his house quickly trailed away. There in his hands lay his Clyde frog plushie, one of the few things he was allowed to take with him. A small tear escaped his eye as he sat slumped in the back of the car.

When they arrived at the house, he noticed it was actually more of a run down building than a home. The outside was brick with a flat roof and many windows. Inside, there were several rooms, or cells, to be more accurate, which contained a bunch of small beds lined up against the walls. There was only one TV in a small room, and no seating surrounding it, just a big rug. The kitchen was like that of a school cafeteria, only it was locked from entry. There were also no computers, x-boxes, or junk food available for free taking. In short, it was everything Eric had imagined Auschwitz to be like. After setting his bags down, he was sent outside to meet the other foster children. There were a few dozen of them playing on the old playground equipment in the back yard.

"Hello everyone! Please welcome the new kid, Eric Cartman. He will be staying with us for a short while. Now, you all play nicely!" the caretaker woman announced before hurrying back inside. Eric really didn't want to be spending his time out in the cold with a bunch of dirty orphan kids. He had only been there 30 minutes and already wanted to leave. After trying to sneak back into the building, he found that the doors were locked. This really _was_ a prisoner's camp, so he thought. After surveying the barbwire fence which surrounded the yard, it appeared that he wouldn't be climbing out of there too easily either.

"We're all stuck out here till 5:30." trailed a voice from behind him. It was an older kid in a baseball hat. "If you try to climb over the fence, you'll just get electrocuted. Happened to Jeremy the other day." he pointed to a small boy who sat in the corner with wild hair frizzed from electric shock. Another child, about pre-school age, approached them. "Did your mommy abandon you tew?" she asked innocently.

"No, god dammit! My mom didn't abandon me!" Eric yelled, sneaking away to the corner of the building. _'This is the worst day ever.' _he thought as he slouched against a wall. All he wanted to do was go home and be greeted by warm cookies, milk, and video games. But because of his stupid mother, he'd now be spending god knows how long in this crappy foster care facility. The guilt he felt earlier for her was now replaced with pure anger.

By the time night rolled around, everyone was given an hour to do their homework and an additional hour to watch TV. Of course, it was the one small TV set that all 30 plus of them had to share.. Everyone gathered around on the carpeted floor to watch Barney and Friends. _'Barney and friends..What the hell is this crap??' _Cartman thought. If "TV time" meant watching a gay purple dinosaur prancing around trying to molest children, then he was going to change it. He got up and switched through the channels nonchalantly, finally stopping on a Terrance and Phillip episode. That's when the room suddenly grew quiet. The 5 and 6 year olds fixed a venemous stare on him as an older child whispered in his ear. "Better change the channel back, man. Those kindergardeners are _really _serious about their TV time." he said nervously.

"Psh. Like I really give a crap about those little dweebs. Barney is for fags, anyway." he replied. A big mistake, on his part.

"GET HIM!!" a kindergardener yelled from the crowd. Within a flash, they were all over him. 5 year old fists came from all directions, beating down on him with animosity. Eric scurried out from beneath the kiddy pile and ran up the staircase frantically, the small stampede chasing after him. He ran into the closest room he could find and slammed the door shut to keep the midgets at bay. They clawed and punched at the door as he held his back against it until the yelling finally subsided. "Don't eva change ow channel again, mudderfucker!" one of the toddlers screamed. After a minute of restless panting, it got quiet. Peering through a crack in the door, Eric could see that the little kids had left the hall. He heard Barney singing again on the TV downstairs.

* * *

The next day at school, Cartman entered the classroom with bruises on his arms and face; just little reminders of his encounter last night with the 5 year olds. His friends noticed. "What the hell happened to you?" Stan asked. Cartman rolled his eyes. "I really don't feel like talking about it right now, hippie."

"Did you get beat up by a girl??" Kyle chuckled.

"No, _Kyle_, I was attacked by a gang of barney-obsessed 5 year olds."

"Yeah right!" Stan said.

"I swear to god, its true. Those little assholes can serve a mean punch."

"Thats because you're a wimp, dude!" Kyle taunted.

"Shut the fuck up, jew! I'll kick your ass!"

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try!" Kyle clenched his fists. Cartman scowled at him.

"Alright guys knock it off!" Stan said, instigating the fight. "What the hell were you doing around 5 year olds anyway, Cartman?"

"Mmph mph mph mphh" (He's in foster care) Kenny blurted out. Cartman furrowed his eyebrows at Kenny for telling. "Kenneh you're not supposed to tellll!" he whined.

"What, why?" Stan asked. "Mmph mmph mmph" (His mom's in jail) he added.

"Dammit, shut up Kenneh!" Cartman yelled, annoyed.

"See, I knew it!" Kyle said smugly. "What is she in jail for?"

"I don't know, douchebag!" Cartman yelled. "All I know is that if I have to spend another day in that crappy goddamn foster home, I'm going to go crazy!! Theres a bunch of dirty old orphan kids and no computers or toys or games or anything!" he complained.

Kyle tried hard to contain his laughter, but whenever karma turned on Cartman, he couldn't help but laugh at it. His face turned red until he finally burst into chuckles.

"AY!! It's not funny you asshole!" Cartman yelled. Kyle just kept on laughing, causing Stan and Kenny to crack smiles as well. "I just think it's ironic, considering how mean you are to your mom." he said as he tried to regain his breath.

"I am _not_ mean to my mother, okay Kahl! My mahm loves me, and she's going to come back to get me real soon!! You'll see!"

Cartman gave them all vicious looks as they giggled at his plight. "You know what, screw you gahz, I'm going home...or..nevermind..aww, god dammit!"

* * *

A week went by, but Cartman's mom never came to get him. In fact, she never even bothered speaking to him, even though she was allowed phonecalls. Eric still had no idea what was going on.

It wasn't until next Tuesday that he was called to Mr Mackey's office to discuss a change in plans in his living arrangements.

"Have a seat, Eric, mmkay?" the counselor spoke as Eric entered the room grumbling.

"Yeah yeah, what did I do this time?" he muttered, sitting down on the plastic seat.

"You're not in trouble this time, I just brought you here to discuss some changes regarding your after school care. Mmkay?"

"Please, Mr Mackey. I'll do anything to get out of that hellhole. Theres rabid 5 year olds, no videogames, and only _one_ TV. They don't even have cheesypoofs!! I've almost lost 5 pounds! It's child abuse!" Cartman pleaded.

"Uhuh, yes well, that is exactly what I brought you here to talk about, mmkay?" the counselor said, tapping his hands on the desk. "We're actually going to take you out of foster care, and send you to go live with your buddy Kyle."

Cartman's eyes grew wide at that. "Excuse me??"

"Kyle Bro-flo-ski, is it?" Mr Mackey stuttered trying to pronounce the last name. "Your mother decided it would be best to send you to live with the, uhh.. 'Brof-lov-skies' for awhile."

"WHY??" Cartman yelled.

"Well, she spoke with his parents, mmkay, and they decided it would be good for you to stay there until things are straightened out."

"She spoke with Kahl's parents but never even bothered to call me!?" Cartman sputtered angrily. "Maybe if she did, she would have known that I _hate_ Kahl!"

"Uh..oh, I see." Mr Mackey said dully.

"Whatever, fine! I'll stay in foster home. I'm just _not_ living with those sneaky jew rats." the fat boy fumed.

"Well y'see Eric, they've already made plans for you to stay at Kyle's, mmkay? So you're just going to have to deal with it for awhile. Mrs Broflovski has already taken the time to come pick you up after school today."

"What?? Well screw that! You can all kiss my black ass!" Cartman growled, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.


	5. Roomies

**NOTE**

I'm terribly sorry for leaving this story hanging for so long. I don't know if anyone is still interested in reading it, but I've promised myself to finish it, and so I will!

I dunno how many more chapters it will be but more drama should come soon!

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

Despite his initial rebellion to having to stay with the stupid jew family, Cartman eventually decided that it'd be the ultimate chance to bother the hell out of Kyle and his family, and that was _always_ a good thing. So by the end of the day, he'd already plotted various schemes.

_'Hmm..I can put roaches in their cereal. And replace Kyle's mom's hairspray with elmer's glue...and what else?'_ he tapped his pencil against the desk in the back of the classroom, pondering all the possibilities.

_'Replace beef hotdogs with pork..nice, let's not forget that one.' _

Before he could plot any further, the dismissal bell interrupted his conniving thoughts. He sighed and shut his notebook. _'Looks like school's over for the day. We'll just see how Kyle likes it when he meets his new roommate..' _he watched evilly as Kyle shuffled behind the crowd of children to leave the classroom.

It wasn't long before Cartman was the only person left in the room. A creepy smirk spread across his face, his eyes glinting in delight.

_'Ahh..ignorance is bliss, isn't it Kyle? Because little do you know that all bliss will be gone after having lived with me for a week!' _He smiled smugly to himself, gathered up his things and then left.

* * *

Cartman watched as Kyle and Stan parted ways in the hallways. Stan left to catch the bus, and Kyle headed the opposite way to attend his afterschool basketball.

Cartman obviously did not participate in any afterschool activities besides eating, something he'd been missing out on a lot lately. He wasn't sure there would be anything good to eat at the _Barf_lovski house either, but that wasn't really what concerned him right now. All he knew was that he'd only have so much time before Kyle came home to think of ways to ruin his day. _And_ to carry out at least one evil plan. Remembering the slip of paper in his pocket that advised him to go to the parking lot afterschool, he made his way through the big swingy doors.

Sure enough, Kyle's mother was waiting in a minivan near the front of the school. Her giant ugly beehive was unmistakable even from far away. '_What the hell does she even need a minivan for anyway? Kyle's cheap ass parents never give any of his friends a ride.' _he grimaced. '_Whatever, let's just get this over with.'_ Cartman stepped off the sidewalk and saw Mrs. Broflovski waving at him from the car. _'Fat bitch' _he mumbled to himself.

She unlocked the door to let him in, but the midget-sized Ike had already occupied the passenger's seat. "BUBUHBUHBUH!" he yelled, whatever that meant. "Oh hello Eric! You'll have to sit in the back, that's Ike's favorite seat. If he doesn't get to sit there, he gets _very_ cranky." Sheila said with a smile.

Cartman shut the passenger door and walked around to open the other. _'YOU have to sit in the back, Eric.' _he mentally mocked her annoyingly smug jew voice, throwing his bag onto the backseat as he inspected it's cushions. _'Of course I do. The back seats are probably tainted with some evil spell or curse or some shit.' _He made sure there were no noticeable jew-germs anywhere on the seat before sitting down on it. "Hello Mrs. Broflovski!" he greeted her sweetly, in as innocent of a tone as he could muster. Even if he couldn't fool Ike with that voice, he knew it worked well on adults. Ike turned around in his seat, suspiciously staring at Cartman through his beady Canadian eyes.

"Hello Ike!" he added, smiling brightly. Ike gave him the middle finger, and Cartman grinned evilly back at him. _'This is going to be a long ride.' _he thought.

* * *

When they got to the house, Sheila stepped out of the car and showed Cartman inside. Mr. Broflovski was sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. He smiled cheesily, a fake and forced grin plastered across his face. "Well hello Eric!" he greeted cheerily.

_'Touche, Mr. Barflovski. Two can play at this game.'_ Eric thought, obviously catching on to the unwitting smile across the man's face. He responded in his most innocent voice. "Helloooo Mr. Broflovski! How are you today??" he greeted, smiling back.

"Good. I'm sorry to hear about your mother. We spoke with her earlier today and she's doing just fine, she says she misses you very much. She should be coming back pretty soon, Eric." Gerald said, glancing up from his newspaper.

"Oh, well I'm _so_ glad that you were all kind enough to take me in! How could I _ever _repay you??" Cartman fibbed again, putting on his angelic act. "Nonsense, Eric! We're just trying to help. Let me show you where I put all your things." Sheila began, showing him upstairs.

"Sheila, can I talk to you for a minute?" Gerald interrupted.

"Okay. Eric, your stuff is in that room over there. I'll be up in one minute." she said, turning back down the staircase. When Cartman was out of sight, Gerald sighed. "Sheila, is this really neccesary? I'm not sure this is such a good idea. I mean, that child is a demon spawn, for God's sake!" he spoke warily, in as low a tone as possible.

Sheila's face went grim and dark. "Gerald, we have no choice. We _have _to help her out..what else are we supposed to do?"

"Tell her to find one of her own family members to take care of the damn kid! It's not our responsibility!" he argued. Sheila furrowed her eyebrows. "It _is _our responsibility, and you know it!" she yelled back.

"Is everything alright?" Cartman appeared at the top of staircase, his hands folded. Both parents looked up. "Yes, yes, everything is fine Eric! Let me help you unpack your things." Sheila made her way back up the stairs, turning around to give Gerald a glare as she followed the boy.

* * *

_An hour later._

Cartman sat in front of the TV playing video games on Kyle's game system. The games were prehistoric compared to his own collection, but he had no other choice but to settle with them. He didn't have his own games to play since that bitch from the social services took all his belongings away; lord knows what things actually_ were _still left in his house.

In other news, his evil plans had failed. He was supposed to dump a cup of slimey green jello he'd stolen from the orphanage in Kyle's clothes drawer, but the fat bitch of a mother wouldn't take her eyes off of him for a split second enough for him to do so. He tried to pour mayonaise in Mr. Broflovski's shoe, but found Ike watching him and tried to play it off like he was up to nothing. Ike knew better though, and threatened to tell on him unless Cartman gave him five dollars. Apparently, the little Canadian rat was just as much of a greedy jew as the rest of them. "_God, I hate freaking jews._" Cartman mumbled as he pressed buttons on the old ass nintendo.

This was definitely worse than the death camp he'd spent a whole week at. How long would he be able to survive here? To make things worse, the sugar withdrawal was beginning to get to his brain. He swore he was starting to see little Christina Aguilera monsters scamper by in the corner of his eye.

Kyle came in through the front door with a regular expression on his face - that is until he saw Cartman sitting in front of the TV playing his Nintendo. His jaw dropped as his brain tried to process it. "What are you doing here, Cartman??" he asked angrily, throwing his backpack on the floor.

"Hi Kahlll!" Cartman replied cheerily. He was going to milk his chance to annoy Kyle as much as possible during his stay. It was already working - Kyle stood there with no other expression but annoyance on his face. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"Ohoh - your parents didn't tell you? I'm staying here all week, or at least until my mahm gets back. Isn't this great?? It'll be like having a roommate!" he chimed.

Kyle bust a fuse in his brain when he heard that. "You're lying." he said in disbelief. "Kahl, Kahl, I wouldn't _lie_ to _you_, now would I?" he said sneakily.

"Yes! You would! Now tell me what you're doing here, or I'll kick your ass!" Kyle yelled, balling his fists up. Just then his father entered the room. "Oh hi Kyle! I guess you're wondering what Eric's doing here." he started to say. Kyle gave him an incredulous look. "Dad - it's not true, right? I mean, you guys aren't letting Cartman stay here until his mom gets out of jail?!"

"Yes we are Kyle - Ms. Cartman is going through a rough time right now and we felt it was our duty to help her. But we all know you and Eric are best friends so it shouldn't be a problem." he said, making Kyle furrow his eyebrows.

"We're NOT friends! Cartman is a racist asshole who will try to murder us all in our sleep! Why can't he just stay at that foster home??" he argued.

"Now now Kyle, it's not nice to be rude to a guest! Why don't you go make your inflatable bed and then come down for dinner?" Gerald replied, turning to leave the room.

"INFLATABLE BED??" Kyle yelled. "Why do_ I _have to sleep on an air mattress?? Isn't this my house?!"

Cartman couldn't contain his hysterical laughter as watched Kyle's anger grow. It was like he was going to explode. Kyle hated having him here, but best of all, there was _nothing_ he could do about it. This was officially the best day of his life.


End file.
